Game of Thrones Tales: The End 1
by regertz
Summary: A few different versions of how the Game will end. Caution: I bar no holds, so if your favorite character dead disturbs you…Well…I warned you…


Game of Thrones Tales: The End…#1

Summary: A few different versions of how the Game will end. Caution: I bar no holds, so if your favorite character dead disturbs you…Well…I warned you…

"I'm sorry about your wife, Tyrion." Newly crowned Aegon eyed his chief aide, Hand to the King. "My guards didn't know her, they reacted to an assassin, instinctively. They were sure she meant to kill you…And naturally…"

Tyrion by the dying body of Sansa Stark, looking up with tears. "No, your Grace…She did mean to kill me, last of the Lannisters, end of her vengeance."

"You…Have to believe…" Sansa gasped, blood issuing from her mouth. "It wasn't personal. I don't hate…You…Tyrion."

"I believe you…Dearest." He nodded, stroking her gently. "Where's the surgeon? Call him back…" he looked up, searching for the Maester, finding the lowered eyes, faint shake of head.

"Still so kind…I remember that. I wish…I could have loved you." She eyed him desperately. "I…I'm all alone…"

"No…No, you're not." He told her, soothingly. "I love you. I wish it were me, the last of all who hurt you. But I love you, Sansa. Let that be for both of us."

Sansa staring at him…Faint smile as she gripped his hand and died.

"I wish it had been me, truly…" he told her, gently settling her.

"Well…" he looked to a grim Arya Stark standing by Aegon. "If you'd care to do the job as you should've, Lady Stark."

"I can't permit that…" Aegon insisted. "Mercedene, if you mean to harm Lord Tyrion, I will have you killed, regardless of your value as my assassin."

"It's only a personal matter, your Grace. There are many eager candidates to replace me, I appreciate your kind regard but I'll be no loss." Tyrion, quietly. "Arya?"

"I cannot permit my authority to be flouted, Tyrion. You are my chief aide, my Hand." Aegon, firmly.

"It's no matter, your Grace." Arya, calmly. "I'm no longer Arya Stark, my Lord Hand. I'm Mercedene, member of the Brotherhood, in the service of the King. The vendettas of a House are no concern of mine. I would stopped Lady Stark myself by whatever means necessary to save the life of the King's Hand." Grim stare.

"Yes… " Tyrion nodded sadly. "I believe you would…Lady Mercedene. And of all the things I hate my family and my father for, this is the worst. That they created you from poor Arya. Have you nothing left for your sister?" deeply penetrating stare which she calmly, coolly accepted.

"She's not been my sister for years, my Lord. My family are the Brotherhood."

"Gods…" Tyrion rose from Sansa's side…Shaking head, regarding the King and the nobles about him. "Was this what it was all for? All these hundreds of thousands of lives, beauty lost and destroyed, our world torn apart? Good people, even noble ones like the Starks degraded into this…?" he eyed Mercedene who regarded him without emotion. "Tell me!" he screamed into the vast hall of the Red Keep. "What was It all for?!" he raised hands in supplication to the gods.

"To restore the rightful dynasty, Lord Tyrion." Varys had stepped forward. "Who will bring peace…" Aegon watching.

"Peace? We had peace, you fool!" Tyrion stared.

"An armed peace forced by that drunken fool of a warlord, backed by Lannister wealth in a shaky alliance that crumbled when it was touched…" Varys shrugged. "That was no real peace…"

"We fought…" Aegon came forward, proudly… "To restore the greatest dynasty the world has ever known. Three hundred years of Targaryen rule since…"

"Since your maniac ancestor conquered the Kingdoms by slaughtering millions and forced a 'noble' dynasty on the land at knifepoint. And now we do it again? Are you telling me that is what all this was for? To put another murderous House on that thing?" he turned to face the Iron Throne.

"You are solely troubled, my Lord Hand and should rest. I will overlook this outburst." Aegon, grimly.

"All this…Madness? To put your family on the throne once more, so there can be more mad kings?" Tyrion eyed him.

"To restore us and with us the glory of our dynasty, Lanni…Arrrghhh…" Aegon clutched at his side, grabbing and pulling out the dagger Tyrion had stabbed him with …Ironically the one that had started the War of the Five so long ago. He fell, Varys running to him, face contorted in the horror of a child losing a precious toy forever, knights, swords unsheathed advancing on Tyrion. Mercedene only hesitating an instant before leaping to stand before him, dagger ready.

"Apparently not…" Tyrion nodded, watching Aegon writhe and then lie still.


End file.
